The Crown of Molten Gold
by BipBopFangirl
Summary: The Mother of Dragons is failing her liberation of Slaver's Bay, letting those she has freed slide back into chains. She now resides in Mereen, while the Astapori refugees camp outside the city. Just when everything seems to be falling apart, the man who she grew up with returns to her, wearing a crown of molten gold...
1. Chapter 1

The low hum of the water fountain was the only sound breaking the silence of the winds. The sky was painted in a tapestry of pink and orange, and a sun resembling a supple egg yolk was being swallowed by a rocky horizon. It was cool, but humid. Occasionally there would be a soft rustle of leaves or a clutter of footsteps echoing down the hallways. Daenerys Targaryen was lent against a marble wall, gazing down at the city of Mereen. She sighed, and closed her eyes a little.

She had been in the city for only a few months, yet she had been loved and shunned and loved again many times over. Those that had called her Mhysa now stoned her whenever the opportunity arose. Her most trusted advisor, he that had named her the love of his life – Jorah Mormont – had betrayed her in exchange for a royal pardon from the Usurper himself. Men sought to wed and bed her, believing she was still merely an ignorant little girl.

They knew nothing. Her sun and stars Khal Drogo, her son she had birthed with his seed, her brother… No. She blocked her rapid train of thought. Overthinking was her weakness, and if she did it too much, she could end up like Viserys. And he was vile and bitter and cruel and sad and vengeful all at once. The moment was too perfect to be ruined with impending doubtful thoughts.

She had almost managed to fall asleep. Almost. Viserion's roar echoed through the palace, shaking the walls like thunder. Dany's heart ached. It ached for her Drogon back. It ached for the Iron Throne. And most of all, it ached for peace. But that was a foolish sentiment, and the Mother of Dragons was anything but a fool. It had gotten chillier as the sun had set for the night. The stars surrounded the glowing moon like excited children pestering a sweet shop owner. Dany felt conflicted. She was angry at the world, yet she continued to be amazed by simple wonders time and again. Yes. It was a cruel world. But also beautiful.

She heard her coming before she saw her. Missendei entered the room dressed in a flowing gown of white silk and blue ribbon. Her sandals clacked along the floor, and for some reason it infuriated her. Clack. Clack. Clack. Her eyebrow twitched a little. Daenerys took a deep breath and stood before her with her chin held high.

Missendei was a woman of natural beauty, anyone could see that. _Though not nearly as beautiful as me,_ she thought. Rather unique for a girl of slave origins, but a gentle soul. The women smiled at each other, and Missendei gave a sweeping bow to her queen. A little curtsy too. She gave Dany more respect than she deserved.

"Mhysa." She rose slowly. "Ser Barristan bids me tell you, there is grave news. I…" She hesitated. Her mouth opened to speak, but the words appeared to catch in her throat. "May I speak freely?"

 _Oh gods, what now?_

The queen gave her a reassuring nod, before saying, "You may."

Her maid took a deep breath. _This isn't good._

"The Stormcrows have returned." _Dario Naharis,_ Dany thought, heart soaring, though she kept a face of stone. Missendei paused for a moment, and looked up at her, as if asking permission to continue. With gritted teeth, and as much patience she could muster, she said, "Tell me."

Her maid stood up tall, and looked her in the eye. _Breath._

"They passed the Astapori camp outside the city. They are starving, dying…the pox has touched them all. The sellswords…" Her speech faltered. _Dario, Dario, Dario._ She almost did not want her to continue.

"They were attacked on their way to the gates of glorious Mereen, to sing to you their songs of the victories destroying Yunkai forces, and, and, and," The next part came out fast, an incessant rapid of vicious truths, pouring from the mouth of her messenger, come to grip her peaceful content with two harsh fists and from the bottom of her soul force it up from her throat and throw it down to the unkempt sewers of regret and defeat.

"The Astapori tried to beg them for food, clothes, medicine, a way into the city. They refused, of course, and shied away from them all, in fear of catching the pox. But they were angry, and tired, and so they attacked. The lot of them, pelting stones and sticks, whatever could be found. Men were pulled off their horses, and though the captains swear that it was not intended, the sellswords… "

Her voice caught. She breathed in quickly, than stammered: "It was more than they could bear. They were overwhelmed, and they hacked away at one another, slicing arms, biting, and oh. I saw, I saw them, I did." Missendei was moaning now, and she moved her hand to cover her mouth. _Sweet girl, what have you seen?_ Dany wanted to comfort her, to take her in her arms to keep her safe. She wanted to. Instead the Mother of Dragons sat stunned on her balcony, as silent and petty as a coward boy teen in his first back alley fight, while a young girl from Naath recounted horrors that played out below in her pyramid.

"They brought them here to recover the dead, the dying, but no one could help them, oh, _oh,_ mother."

The little girl from Naath was sobbing now, tears crawling from eyes meekly at a snail's pace.

"Sellswords and Astapori were slaughtered, a massacre, a massacre." She stuttered. "But your captain." Dany's heart dropped like a stone. "Dario Naharis was pulled directly from his horse, his company rode away. Not a soul stopped to help him." _No. No, no gods, please not him, PLEASE,_ she thought. Was that a thought? Her mind and body seemed scrambled as one, and for a moment she could not comprehend what the little scribe had told her. _Would the gods be so cruel?_

Her fear was confirmed, when Missendei from Naath told her that Dario Naharis had not been found.

"Leave me." The words left her mouth unknowingly, but nevertheless she was grateful for the quiet solace of her balcony. Her lungs were heavy, and suddenly Dany could not stand for a moment longer. She heaved her body up, thick with grief and the plague of never-knowing. Perhaps she would've gone to see the extent of the damage, or inquired after Barristan. Instead, she turned to see the man who had been her brother, smiling, wearing a crown of molten gold, eyes cold and blue.

"Hello, sweet sister." he said.


	2. Chapter 2

Ser Barristan Selmy stood in a sweltering hot courtroom, packed with the harsh, finger-pointing noblemen of Mereen. His underclothes clung to his body, and feverous sweat trickled down his neck in tiny droplets. Stiffly, he stood in his glistening metal armour, a white cloak on his back, though he was no longer quite sure what it stood for. The noblemen had ignored his arguments – it seemed to him that they had only come to prove him wrong and leave with upturned noses and a purse full of coins.

Yet Ser Barristan knew it was not his place to intervene. He was merely a humble servant of his rightful queen, and so he was trying to tell these prissy snobs that he could do nothing until Queen Daenerys arrived at court. He wondered when she would come. The girl would not take it well - she had a gentle soul, clearly, although she tried meticulously to hide it. He had attempted to at least calm the nobles for a while, but they were too absorbed in their ignorance to listen. They were all only a herd of pink little men, aristocrats with soft, supple hands and smooth backs that had never known a day's labour. Many wore tokars, fringed with baby pearls and ivory silks, velvet skirts with cloth-of-gold embroidery. The sandals that lay on their feet were embellished with richly coloured jewels, making their feet heavy (and expensive).

They had been waiting for an audience with her since dawn, and now their patience had grown thin. Some shouted profanities at him, crying:

"Where is the whore queen, old man? Did she cut off your ears as well as your balls Ser Grandfather?"

Some of them had mistaken him for an Unsullied soldier. Even he had to admit that his Queen was delaying too long. He had sent Missendei to fetch her ages ago, it seemed, but neither had returned. Perhaps he should summon another to see what was going on. Grey Worm would've been the best option, but he was busy organising his men to be deployed into the city, who were sorting out the Astapori crisis. The defences had been overwhelmed, and swarms of pox-ridden men, women and children had flooded into their city.

He had gone with Missendei to see what was in store for them. It was a horrific site. In the struggle with the sellswords, many had been torn, scratched, bitten and bruised. Once they saw a child no more than three, alone, his eyes sunk into skull, the mark of starvation on his skinless bones, crying for his mother. In the end, that child had been stoned to death over a crust of bread that he had found on the floor. The girl that killed him was no more than eight herself. An ancient, wrinkled man that hardly had the energy to stand had needed to beat a young boy with a stick to get him away. He had been trying to steal the thin sandals from his feet. The little scribe Missendei had lent on his shoulder and wept and wept and wept. Her sharp, shuddering sobs did not stop, and by the time she was done, the cloth on his shoulder was soaked through. In the end he had sent her away.

So now he stood in a room full of nobles in the merciless heat that came with residing in Mereen. Ser Barristan could wait for the queen no longer, as even he had grown restless. He lent over the shoulder of one of his attendants, and whispered to him that he was going to retrieve the queen from her chambers. Then, he promptly stood up and marched out of the room to the beat of his own racing pulse. The nobles only erupted into an even fiercer whirling storm of raw anger. One man even ran forward and attempted to spit in his face, but the guards held him back. They had promptly started to beat him up, but Ser Barristan paid no mind to them. He had a mission now, and that was to find Queen Daenerys.

It was when he was stomping down the torch-lit corridors in the centre of the pyramid that he heard the screams. He turned towards the sound, and ran. His armour clinked as he sprinted, so he tore it off and threw it to the ground, along with his worthless white cloak. Pacing steadily, the screams were long and agonising, but they felt distant, foreign. Though his youth had long abandoned him on the steps of King's Landing, Ser Barristan Selmy was a purely spirited and determined soul, intent on duty. He _had_ to find his Queen.

He turned around dozens of corners, all identical, and still he came no closer to the piercing screams that made no motion to stop. Eventually he staggered and tripped directly on his face. He swore loudly, but no one heard him. Only the rough stone floor stared back through his eyes, searching for his soul. He kicked it sharply, and at the next corner, saw Missendei from Naath yelling and banging her small fists on the door to the Queen's chambers.

"Missendei?" he said. "What's going on?" She made no move to answer him, but continued to hammer her tiny fists into the great brass door. He stormed over to her, and yanked her away from the door. Forcefully this time, he asked her in a booming voice – "Was that you screaming just now?"

There was no answer.

"Speak girl!"

The girl only whimpered and struggled in his arms as he shook her, but the question answered itself when a deep moan, thick with anguish was heard by them both. It was coming from the Queen.

"Who…is that…Daenerys?" Ser Barristan stuttered, but his doubt was futile. They both knew the Queen was in trouble. They both knew they needed to get her out. He took three sharp breaths to calm himself, then pummelled his entire body weight into the brass door. Nothing shifted. It might as well has been stone. The cries continued within, longer and louder, until it turned into one whole, painful high-pitched shriek, that went on…and on…and on…..Until suddenly it stopped.

All his frustration was released from him at once, and Ser Barristan threw himself into the brass door a hundred thousand times, it seemed to him. He was a horned, red-faced bull, drilling and battering and ramming and knocking himself into the great stern brass door that would not shift. Through bombs and storms and earthquakes, it seemed that this great door would never budge.

Until it did. Just when he had almost given up, the door gave way. It had not even been locked. It appeared it had merely frozen in place. The door was deathly cold where his hand stroked it, but he did not bother lingering. Missendei and Ser Barristan rushed inside, expecting to find a massacre in their wake, or at least a broken window, or anything at all….

But the chambers were spotless. Not a stool untouched, not one piece of gold was missing, he might've even said that it was _cleaner_ than when he had last seen it. The Queen appeared to have disappeared from the face of the Earth – until Missendei released a tiny gasp and began to weep silently, choking on her tears.

"Missendei, is she there?" But the girl was as wordless and silent as the Queen, who was naked, lying face down in a tub of water. He yanked her up by the hair, her body stiff and cold. There were bruises in the shape of fingerprints round her neck – a deep purple colour. Dark circles hung low underneath the eyes making her face sag. Her lip was cracked and bleeding, and her arm was sticking out at an odd angle. When he touched her skin, it was rock hard to the touch, freezing as well. Crimson liquid poured out of her nose, eyes, and mouth. Dany's' dress lay in crumpled heap a few metres away, and what had once been a beautiful silk had been torn viciously. Rags were all that remained.

He slapped her face in his desperation, again and again. After eight times he stopped. Ser Barristan Selmy lay his rightful Queen down on a sleek marble floor, gently as a new born babe. He bowed his head respectfully, silent and solemn in his grief. Missendei sucked in a breath sharply, and in her frustration struck her hand out, silver wine goblets shattering to the floor.

He heard a mewling sound, like a small animal. A kitten perhaps – there were thousands in Mereen. But the sound wasn't coming from far away. It was coming from his Queen. Her breaths were quick and laboured, her chest bouncing. Ser Barristan turned towards her. _Surely not?_ he thought.

Daenerys Targaryen opened her eyes full of fear, and whispered four chilling words that he would never forget.

"I woke the dragon."


	3. Chapter 3

She shivered in her sleep. Daenerys lay still for three moons and a sunrise before she ever made a motion to stir, although it seemed far longer. Her dreams were ridden with long-lost memories of a life she had once known. There she stood, before a house with a red door, with Viserys standing there, a hand outstretched. It was his first face, the one he had before Drogo crowned him. He bore no burn marks in this illusion, his skin was supple, pale and smooth, and his vibrant violet eyes flickered in the sunlight. Or was it moonlight? She could not tell. The dream held a mist over her eyes, and a celestial light hung low all around her. The wind rustled his silver hair gently from side to side, but he seemed distant. She tried to take a step closer towards him, but when she tried, she found her legs were frozen in place.

Viserys began whispering something. He lips moved to quickly and quietly for Daenerys to be able to understand him, even so, she could make out that he was repeating something. Dany strained her ears, edging her head as close to him as she could manage, but all the effort wielded was silence. The mist began to move faster, getting thicker and darker, enveloping her, swallowing her whole. It continued to spread everywhere, covering her face, slipping into every hole in her body. Abruptly, it picked up speed and the great cloud whirled _through_ her, it felt, and soon enough, Viserys was out of sight.

All of a sudden she lost the ability to breath. Owing to the fact that she was inside her subconscious, Dany found no consolation in the fact that her loss of wind was merely a figment of her wild imagination. She began viciously coughing and heaving, but the cloud did not recede. In fact, it whispered to her. Softly at first, a gentle humming of numerous voices, overlapping each other so she could not understand a word of it. The voices began to incline in volume, becoming rapid and incessant, spiraling towards her. The voices were stern, echoing through the cloud, hitting her with noise. She tried to focus on a single sound, but it was futile. Her breathlessness had crippled her, but she could not fall. The wind carried her through the grey mist, flinging her from the edge of limbo to infinity as if she weighed nothing at all. After drifting for a while she caught the voice of Ser Jorah, his thundering bellows flowing past her. Dany made out the words "Can you wake the dead girl?" and "The last dragon", along with "I have loved you, Khaleesi". That last word lingered in her ear, until the mist flung her upwards once more in a violent outburst and then dropped her on the cold hard ground directly on her face.

Dany gathered her breath, taking sharp, short gasps of air to gather herself. She stood and observed where she had been taken. It took a while to recognise the place. The land was red and dead and parched, the steaming, coarse remains of burnt grass scratched the soles of her feet, and a thick layer of ash covered her from head to toe. She was naked, lying in a pile of smoking logs, with a dying fire flickering in the distance, though the flame was weak, lacking sufficient heat. She watched it die from where she lay. Dany heard a cry, like that of a small child, though it somehow lacked a certain softness. Her head turned slowly to see an infant Drogon screeching at her. Two other beasts made the brief climb over a particularly burly log to reach her, and when they did, they leapt onto her belly and cooed at her. _I know where I am._ At first she did not realise, but slowly she recognised the broken pillars of Drogo's funeral pyre scattered across the landscape.

She had gone back in time to the scene of her dragon's births. The place where she had become the Mother of Dragons. Fire made flesh. Slowly she stood, though her aching limbs protested. There stood Viserys again, wearing his crown of molten gold. He smiled, and spread his arms in an open gesture, as if to embrace her. Dany whimpered and tried to back away, but her dragons clung to her feverishly, their claws digging into her skin. The black beast gave a cry, and promptly flew into Viserys' face. With a quick swipe of his hand, he lashed out at Drogon and grabbed him by the neck. Dany tripped over a log backwards onto her behind. Her brother chuckled softly.

"Now I may look down on you sweet sister," he said. "And deliver you to your rightful execution." He made a motion to kick her, but she caught his leg and pushed him back. His molten crown appeared to weigh him down, as he did not move his neck as quickly as he had in his youth. She tried to cry out when he attempted to hit her again, but he held her down. Drogon struggled in his hand, but Viserys twisted him all the harder. He began to laugh hysterically, a thin high chortle, all the while kicking his sister. The crown he wore had seeped into his eyeball, crystallizing it, giving it a unique glisten. She screamed and screamed, trying to reach her fragile children, but he overpowered them all.

"The dragon!" he exclaimed. "You've woken the dragon, you little slut!" To prove his point, he grabbed Dany's face, his nails digging into her chin, and shrieked and shrieked and shrieked. "THE DRAGON! I AM THE DRAGON! I AM YOUR KING! THE ONE TRUE KING!" Her dragons gave a desperate cry in unison, and suddenly they morphed into their adult selves. Viserys gave a singular gasp, just like the one he gave when he had been crowned, and her children set her brother on fire. Wisps of heavy smoke poured from his skin. Dany tried to turn away and run, but without warning, her dragons turned on her and released their flames. Before the heat could reach her, she blinked, and found herself in a Dothraki tent, her sun-and-stars lying on the mats staring up at her.

"Oh…" she began to say, but she was swiftly swept up in her husband's arms before she could utter another word. He lifted her face so her eyes met his gaze, and pulled her closer so he could taste the sweetness on her tongue. The kiss was long and luxurious, until Khal Drogo bit into her lip with such a fierceness that when she pulled away the skin on her mouth ripped and she began to bleed. Her husband was angered at this insolence, and made a grab for her hair, attempting to pull her close once again. She protested, and he slapped her. Dany was not surprised when her husband's face turned hideous, and morphed into her brother's once again.

He was still whispering, like he had at the little house with the red door. His breaths were harsh and stern, and she heard his words only once before Daenerys awoke from her slumber.

"Now's the time." he had said.

When her eyes etched open, she saw a woman she did not recognize standing above her. The lady seemed in shock when Dany met her gaze, and began to yelp. She dropped the bundle of sheets she had been holding, and knocked over a glass of tea that had been placed on a bedside table in her hysteria, scrambling out of the room, yelling to no one in particular, "She's awake! She's awake!"

Dany did not know why she was in such a state. She had only been resting after a tiring day. Drogon was waiting for her, she needed to get to him. She wanted to crawl out of bed and find him, but before she could find the strength to heave herself from the silk sheets that bound her, an old man wearing a metal dress held her down. His hands were gentle, but firm. Her hands were feeble and weak against him, beating softly on his chest. She whimpered in her frustration, moaning, "No, please," over and over again till her voice was a broken croak and her throat was raw. All the while the old man kept hushing her, but Dany would not listen, she could not listen, she needed her children, it was all she had left now, her baby dragons wanted her, they would not survive without her….

A violent wave of panic went through her, and she cried out in frustration. The woman with the sheets stepped forward to calm her, but Dany could not relax. There was a deep sense of dread inside her, her heart had dropped like a stone, she had to leave, she had to go, but they would not let her. How could they know what she needed? How could they help her if she was not permitted to move? The old man, sensing her panic, ceased to restrain her. Not a second had passed before the lady with the sheets was in her face, speaking to her softly. Dany tried to concentrate on the woman's features. Her skin was copper, her eyes hazel, and her hair was a huge black bush of curls. She was thin and bony, and she kept calling her a strange word.

 _Khaleesi. Khaleesi, be still._ She had never heard that word before. It seemed foreign to her. She didn't like it. The old man and the thin lady began to argue with each other. The lady kept calling the man Barristan, and Ser. They seemed familiar somehow, but she could not comprehend the words, they all jumbled up in her mind. Dany didn't want to listen to their bickering. She wanted to be alone, and sleep. She croaked an order, and they promptly obeyed, scuttling out in single file, still arguing.

After staring up at the wall for a few minutes, Daenerys leant her entire body weight on one arm and lifted her head to observe her surroundings. She was in a large chamber. All the silks, cottons, and curtains were richly embroidered, the tables had strange animals carved into the woodwork, and the floor, walls, and ceiling all had a marble polish. But she did not recognize this place. She did not recognize those people, or the name they had called her. The only thing she knew was her dragons. And….him. He wanted to be alone with her, so he told her to send everyone away.

He had been residing in the corner of the room, by the balcony. He seemed to prefer it there. After being separate from the realm of living men for such a time, the warmth of the sun on his back was more than welcome. The rays of light glistened on his face where the crown was, and he was constantly scratching his ear, as some of the liquid had seeped inside it when he had been crowned. His head turned robotically towards her in one swift motion, and he marched towards her. When he reached her, he caressed her forehead, as he had often done in his lifetime when they were together all those years.

"Ready?" he asked her, though it seemed more like a command than an offer. She nodded her answer, anxious and shivering.

Daenerys blinked back her tears.


End file.
